Unsinkable
by AmputeeTrainee
Summary: The ability to be everywhere and nowhere does have a downside.


The soft sound of water droplets hitting the laboratory floor gained the Doktor's attention, but he didn't turn away from the computer terminal or stop typing. In the monitor's reflection, he could see the distorted image of a young boy in uniform standing behind him.

After giving an annoyed sigh, Dok asked, "Where have you been?"

"...Nowhere."

His brow furrowed at the reply. Fingers pausing over the keyboard, Dok looked over his shoulder. Schrödinger stood several paces away soaking wet from head to toe. Glazed, mauve eyes stared at the floor, watching the growing puddle around his feet. Why the boy didn't simply envision himself dry, he didn't know.

"You're lying," Dok noted boredly. "You only ever come here when you're in trouble. Now clean yourself up, you're making a mess."

Schrödinger's dull eyes glanced up at him but nothing more. No snappy comeback. No shit-eating grin. No snarky excuses. Dok frowned. He glanced at the lines of code on the monitor screen, then back to the sullen, sopping boy. If Schrödinger wasn't going to alter his present reality, then _he_ was going to have to do something about it.

Sighing, Dok rose to his feet and muttered, "Come with me."

Grabbing the boy by the shoulder, he led him through of the laboratory. In the back, near the operating theater, hung several dividers that sectioned part of the room into a row of cubicles. The furthest one he sometimes used as a makeshift room. It wasn't always possible to leave experiments in the laboratory unattended overnight, a spare bed was necessary.

He ushered the boy into the dimly lit space, who stood silently in the center. Odd. Normally, Schrödinger made fun of the hodgepodge room, saying it looked like a bum lived here. True, he had placed an old, moth-eaten cot on the extra gurney. Yes, he had made a clothing rack out of leftover metal piping. And sure, the pile of broken electronics on the floor waiting to be repaired left something to be desired, but he didn't think it was that awful.

After picking up a towel from underneath the gurney, he started to dry the boy's dripping hair. The child remained motionless, eyes downcast. His ears didn't even twitched when they were toweled off.

"Well?" he asked, and tugged at the wet lapel of Schrödinger's uniform.

The boy didn't move and remained silent and wet. No quick change. Nothing. After uttering an annoyed hum, Dok began to undress him. He then wrapped Schrödinger in the towel before turning around to hang the wet uniform on the rack to dry.

Schrödinger stood bundled in the same spot when he turned back around. Weird. The child was a nuisance through and through. Dok was surprised the boy hadn't started poking around the room and hiding his tools for kicks.

Sparing the other a concerned glance, he began to sort through his clothes until he found a nightshirt. The garment was too large; the hem reached over Schrödinger's knees and the neck gaped past his collarbone, making him seem even younger, more pathetic. The boy had no comment about the shirt. No complaints. Strange. Usually, the child griped about the smell of formaldehyde and disinfectant that always permeated his clothing.

"What did you _do_?" Dok asked firmly. Ears flattened against his skull, but Schrödinger didn't offer an answer. To get the boy's attention, he bent to one knee so they were eye to eye. "Tell me."

"I...got stuck."

"Impossible."

The boy grimaced, showing sharp teeth, "Knew you'd say that."

Dok sighed through his nose, trying to keep his temper in check.

"All right, then how did this... _anomaly_ happen?"

"...I was looking through some of the old films in the Major's room," Schrödinger admitted finally. Dok felt a vein tick on his forehead. The boy had been snooping, and in the Major's quarters no less-always so disrespectful! "Started watching Titanic. Sounded like fun, so I wanted to see it."

"You're decades too late. Obviously, it's at the bott-"

"-bottom of the ocean, I know."

Dok gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing.

"You _didn't_."

"I must have thought about it too hard, and then I was in the water," The boy said and swallowed thickly. "I...I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I-I couldn't think! It hurt so badly. The water, it's so heavy down there, it just squeezes. I could hear my bones…my guts just..." Schrodinger stopped and grimaced again, arms coming to hug his chest. "Every time I came back, t-the ship was all I could think about." He paused to rub at his eyes but ended up hiding his face in the crook of his arm as he continued, voice cracking. "I kept coming back over and over, always in the same place until-until-I just wanted to go home!"

Dok's mouth went slack at the confession. He always knew Schrödinger's snooping would get him into trouble but this he hadn't foreseen. Throat moving soundlessly, Dok found he couldn't scold the other for his foolish behavior. Being crushed to death on loop in the cold depths of the Atlantic seemed punishment enough. And in his panic, the boy had desperately wanted to be where he felt safe; Schrödinger considered this lab to be home.

Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a pat. Schrödinger immediately flung his arms about his neck and squeezed, face burrowing against his bony chest. Dok went ridged, uncertain of what to do before slowly enveloping the tiny body in his arms. A marvel of genetic manipulation, Schrödinger was many things: a pest, a tool, a sacrifice, but ultimately, he was still a child.

* * *

Read somewhere that Dok and Schro have a father-son relationship. Also, trying to write nicer (?) stuff. The movie Schro's watching is the 1943 Titanic film commissioned by Joseph Goebbels, not the James Cameron version. If you have an interest in propaganda films, give the 43′s version a watch. It's on youtube.

This drabble takes place when Scho's a little younger, so he's not great at quantum tunneling yet. He travels to an extreme environment and panics. After drowning and getting crushed multiple times, he thinks of a way out, but not before getting frightened. I guess this is, like, the first time he gets trapped in a death-loop and isn't sure how to deal with it. Scho's powers are an interpretation of Cogito, ergo sum: he thinks, therefore he exists, but what he thinks alters his reality. Blah blah blah.

By the way, the Titanic is about 12,000 feet below the surface of the ocean.


End file.
